Luke Bradford is a chocolatier on a
mission. After moving his chocolate shop, and newly single life, to the
quirky town of Cactus Creek, Luke wants nothing more than to devote all his
energy into making his business a success—by taking the romance market by
storm. But his grand plans get thrown for a loop when he locks horns with
the feisty beer-brewing beauty next door who calls his ‘romantic idealism’ a
load of fairytale bull. Soon, driving the woman sparking nuts becomes
another wickedly fun priority he simply can’t get enough of.

In his defense, she’s addictively easy
to incite…and plain impossible to resist.

Beloved local brewmaster Dani Dobson is beyond
riled up. It’s bad enough the new shop owner in town comes locked and
loaded with both a distractingly rugged charm and sexy flashing dimples, but
the whole only-in-the-movies variety of romance he’s selling—the kind her world
has been crushed by before—is really doing a number on her allergy to
unrealistic clichés. What’s worse, he’s created an annoyingly clever ad
campaign that dubs ‘beer joints’ like hers as the “cave where romance
goes to hibernate.” The nerve of that man.

Luke grimaced as he adjusted his jeans
and leaned down to slide her hair back from her face. Pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, he
suggested softly, “Honey, why don’t you go on and shower so you can get to
bed. You’re not used to waking up as
early as I am; I should’ve thought about that before planning this dinner. You brewed all day today and you’ve got the
dayshift tomorrow; you need to rest. So
get going. I’ll clean up out here.”

With a groan, Dani dragged herself up
off the couch. “But that’s not fair,”
she managed around a stifled yawn. “You
cooked, I should do the dishes.”

“Next time. Go on.
I’ll let myself out when I’m done.”

“Nooo,” she protested even as she was
slowly shuffling toward the hallway.
“Don’t leave without saying goodbye.
Promise? Even if I’m out cold?”

His own reply was muted out by the
blood rushing in his ears—a reaction he was helpless to at the sound of her
words getting muffled behind clothing.

Clothing she was taking off.

Without him.

No amount of adjusting could stop the
zipper tattoo that was forming behind his jeans. Quickly turning on the faucet to mute out any
more stripping noises, he started scrubbing the cast iron pan in the sink like
it owed him money, damn near making it shine until finally, finally, he heard
the bathroom door close and the shower turn on.

But then his imagination got the best
of him. The hot water, the dish soap
bubbles, hell even the damn rubber dish gloves next to the sink all made him
think of sex. And wet, naked woman.

His wet, naked
woman.

Not twenty-five feet away.

What was it about a woman in a shower
that could make the male brain turn to mush?

His hands gripped the edge of the sink
unsteadily as he counted backward from a hundred, willing his mind to focus on
something else. He was in the single
digits when he decided to start back from a hundred when he heard the shower
shut-off and quiet, feminine footsteps padding across the hallway. The sound of a door opening, but not closing
shut all the way made him almost drop to his knees in surrender right there.

It wasn’t until complete silence echoed
back at him that he leaned way the hell over and finished the rest of the
dishes, surprised he hadn’t managed to drill a hole in the cabinet paneling in
the process. When he felt at least
partially sane, but still not at all under control, he headed down the hall to
Dani’s bedroom to say goodnight.

No dallying, no thinking. Definitely no touching. Just get in and out—

Freak-in-A.

Definitely none of that.

Knocking gently before he pushed the
partially ajar door open, he came to a full standstill and just stared. He’d expected Dani to be asleep.

He hadn’t expected to find her asleep
in her towel.

Hair still damp from the shower, tiny
goosebumps across her skin from the cold, and her expression wholly relaxed in
sleep, she was the sexiest thing he’d ever laid eyes on. A beautiful sleeping angel.

Wrapped in a towel that was two, maybe
three breaths away from falling open.

His legs were moving him closer before
her lungs filled again.

He grabbed the right side of her
comforter and draped it over her so she was encased from neck to toe. Statues of his sainthood would be built in
honor of him in this moment years from now, he was sure.

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Author Bio:

New
York Times & USA Today bestselling author Violet Duke is a former professor
of English Education who is ecstatic to now be on the other side of the page
writing wickedly fun contemporary romance novels. When she's not arguing with
her story characters or feeding her book-a-day reading addiction, she enjoys
tackling reno projects with her power tools while trying pretty much anything
without reading the directions first and cooking 'special edition' dishes that
laugh in the face of recipes. Violet lives in Hawai'i with her two cute kids
and similarly adorable husband.